


Pull My Finger

by trascendenza



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-01-20
Updated: 2007-01-20
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:07:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trascendenza/pseuds/trascendenza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was a joke. At first. Sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pull My Finger

It was a joke. At first.

…sort of.

:::

"Wilsooooooooooooooon!"

Wilson sputtered into the bathroom less than a minute later—49 seconds, to be precise, because what fun would an exercise like this be if it weren't timed?—his cell phone flipped open upside-down in one hand and a spatula in the other.

"What's wrong?" Wilson asked between panting breaths.

House shoved the shower door open with a bang, smirking at Wilson from where he reclined against the tiles.

"My leg hurts."

Wilson blinked at him, trying to mentally add up the pieces: House screaming for him, House naked right in front of him, House sporting a really distracting erection…

"I—well. It does?"

"I need your help."

"My help?"

"Are you having a repetition problem today, Dr. Jimmy?"

"Am I… wait, _what_ do you need my help with?"

House smiled, pure cat who'd conned the canary out of his milk money. "With this." He gestured down at the erection Wilson was trying very hard not to notice.

"_That_?"

"Duly in need of some attention, good doctor."

"Because _your leg hurts_?"

House pointed a finger at him, waggling it. "You're pretty quick on the uptake, aren't you?"

The sound that came out of Wilson's throat registered on the scale somewhere between a scream and a roar. "You!"

The spatula bounced rather pathetically off House's chest.

"You said to let you know if there was anything you could do for my pain," House replied equanimously, tempted to ask if he could snap a quick photo with that cell phone to document the lovely shade of purple Wilson's face had turned, but before he could get the words out that same cell phone was hurled into his face and Wilson, purple face and all, had stormed out.

"Fine, fine. I'll manage on my own." Not even bothering to shut the doors, he got down to business. "No thanks to you!"

:::

It made sense, logically.

There were blowjobs out there to be had, and House wasn't having them.

Something had to be done.

:::

He was able to laugh about it, many hours after the fact.

Wielding kitchen tools like some kind of culinary ninja. Right. But as gags went, it was a pretty good one. Not that he'd ever admit it.

Thankfully House wasn't a one-trick pony, so he didn't have to worry about it happening again.

:::

Fifteen minutes late already. Shit.

Making a mental note to buy a new alarm clock on the way home from work, he grabbed his briefcase and opened the closet to grab his coat, his mind already ten steps ahead of him and planning out his day—

"What the fu—"

"And a good morning to you, too." House's voice was muffled behind the coats. There was no mistaking what Wilson had just jerked his hand away from—God, his palm even still felt warm—and once again, the pieces of this situation were not fitting into place.

"What the _hell_ are you doing?"

The coats shifted and a pair of twinkling blue eyes emerged. "I would have thought it'd be pretty obvious, even to someone as stubbornly oblivious as you."

"Don't you have hookers for this kind of thing?" Wilson asked, unconsciously clenching and un-clenching his hand.

"But they don't blush half as pretty as you."

The front door slammed very loudly, but not loud enough to cover House's mad laughter.

:::

Playing hard to get. He should have taken that into account.

And this was supposed to be a game.

:::

He didn't know if this was House's idea of a joke, but he wasn't going to play along any more.

Time to change the rules.

:::

He fell—actually fell—when he walked in the room to find Wilson lounging naked on his bed.

The bastard was reading a book. Like he could just sit there… naked… on his bed… reading a _book_.

"Are you trying to throw out my good leg, too?" He ground out, rubbing his knee with a glare that could slice ham.

"That was my motive exactly. How ever did you know?"

He turned a page. House gripped his cane a little harder, coming around the bed to tower over Wilson, something he'd normally enjoy.

But Wilson wasn't normally this confident, either. It was irritatingly sexy.

"So were you just going to sit there looking pretty all night or was there some kind of plan of action here?"

"This book is pretty interesting. Why, you have a better offer?"

House raised an eyebrow that arched _touché_ as it climbed on his forehead.

"Ever been ravished by a cripple?"

Paper tore. Coughing. "Um. No. Not the last I checked, anyway."

House used his cane to slap away the book and then levered himself until he'd crawled over Wilson, his lips caught in a strange line that couldn't decide whether it wanted to be a frown or a laugh.

"My professional opinion is that you're long overdue to have some sense fucked into you."

"I take it you're just the doctor for the job."

"Your powers of deduction never fail to astonish me," House said, but he was smiling, and not his usual fare of _laugh at the idiot and move along_, more like the _I'm having fun but I'll be damned if I admit it to you_ variety.

"Deduce this, you bastard." Wilson jerked him down, slamming their lips together, nothing gentle or soft about the way he practically mouth-fucked House. Game time up. Pretty soon they were breathless, tangled, mixed up, ready to forget about the fact that this was a really bad fucking idea.

Or maybe they were just ready to turn it into a really fucking good one.

"So, ravishing?" Wilson asked, working at the button on House's jeans.

House grinned wickedly, like a promise. "Once you go cripple you'll never go back."


End file.
